Bad Influence

If it were in my power, I would be wiser; but a newly felt power carries me off in spite of myself; love leads me one way, my understanding another.

-Ovid in Metamorphoses

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Thank you. I need a new disclaimer. Don't you all think so?

Hathcyn was lying on ground in the practice courts, looking up at the sky. The spirits kept swirling around in his head, shouting at him to release them. He couldn't register each request, each word; it was all too convoluted. Right now, he was just barely shoving them below the surface.

"Focus on that, and just that," Galbatorix ordered. "The spirits don't control you; you control them. Keep your focus on one thing, and you won't be focusing on their senseless ramblings about how they want to get out. YOU DON'T LET THEM OUT!"

When Galbatorix shouted, Hathcyn blinked. The effect was instantaneous. His eyes rolled back in his head; his breathes became pants; and his head felt as though the people now sharing it with him were ramming a tree trunk against it.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word.

Momma, why did Horsey throw me?

Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Let me go!

Where am I?

Why do I suffer? I've done nothing wrong.

Fool! Life's cruel. Why should death be any different?

Do you know who I am?

"No, I don't!" Hathcyn shouted. A bit of the pain receded as all of the spirits stopped to listen.

Well, I'm…

"I don't care!" he seethed, and with those words, the voices and the pain returned in full force.

Oh, nobody cares about me.

Don't care? Why you little…

And if that mockingbird don't sing…

Shut that damn baby up!

Leave us alone! Eofor's voice sounded above all the voices in Hathcyn's head. Something was sweeping through his brain, pushing the spirits down and silencing them.

"That's another way to do it," Galbatorix told Eofor. "Well done, dragon. It would seem as though you aren't a complete fool after all. You, my young rider, must learn to focus on something that isn't a spirit or on all of them at once. You can't just pick a fight with one while the others keep screaming. It won't work."

"I noticed," Hathcyn muttered.

"Now that your dragon's shut them up, they probably won't bother you for a while. But if you lose control or give them a break, they'll come up again. They'll try to get out again. And then you'll have to do it all over again. Remember this lesson, and remember you dragon's rare moment of wisdom."

Don't worry, Eofor. You're plenty for the both of us, Hathcyn told his dragon when resentment and hurt poured into the green rider's mind.

"Considering all the trouble that he's gotten you into, I wouldn't agree with that," Galbatorix remarked.

Can't you keep him out? Eofor asked.

"No, and neither can you," Galbatorix replied.

Just calm down, Eofor, Hathcyn told him. Remember what happened last time.

"So you do have a brain," Murtagh remarked. "That's nice to know. At least you don't blunder through everything."

"Where did you come from?" Hathcyn asked, turning towards the direction of Murtagh's voice.

"The door," the red rider replied.

"Oh, so you use doors like the rest of us mortals? That's nice to know," Hathcyn retorted.

"Are you actually accusing me of being arrogant?" Murtagh asked.

"You?" Hathcyn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now why would I do that?"

"Speak of demons," Murtagh muttered.

"So now you're acting crazy for the whole world to see?" Hathcyn said.

"Well, that's better than the slut, but I honestly preferred…what was it…she who inflicts misery by breathing? That was an amusing one."

Hathcyn's eyes narrowed, but he didn't turn in the direction of Morgana's voice. She was the last person that he wanted to see right now.

"What are you doing here, Morgana? This is really a bad time. The last members of a supposedly illustrious order are bickering like five year olds," Galbatorix interrupted.

"Surda knows that the elf' gave up Ellesméra's location," she replied. "And I think that Lilith behaves better than they do."

"And you know this how?" Hathcyn asked, finally turning around to face her. She looked considerably pleased with herself.

"Know what how?" Morgana asked, meeting his eyes. She was smiling almost maniacally.

"I think he was asking how you know how you child behaves, considering that you never pay attention to her," Murtagh put in.

Morgana whipped around, and her hair almost smacked Hathcyn in the face. He didn't particularly care though. However, he would have given almost anything to have seen the look that she'd just given Murtagh.

"Actually, I was asking about the elf's location," he said.

"Thank you," Morgana said, smiling at him. She then curtsied, keeping her head up so that he could see the curve of her breasts, which were practically falling out of her gown.

Don't! Eofor shouted.

I wasn't, Hathcyn said. I was just looking. I'm allowed to look, aren't?

Eofor muttered something that sounded oddly like pervert.

Where did you learn that? Hathcyn asked.

Thorn, Eofor replied.

"Hey, rider, your dragon is teaching mine dirty words!" Hathcyn shouted at Murtagh.

"You mean you didn't teach him them yourself?" Murtagh asked.

For some odd reason, Morgana found the whole situation so incredibly funny that she burst out laughing.

"Tell me, child," Galbatorix began. "Did you come down here to laugh at my students, or did you come down here to tell me something?"

"I came down here to tell you something, and I was beginning to tell you that something when those two interrupted me," Morgana answered.

"Oh, yes, it was something about a spy here, wasn't it?" Galbatorix muttered. "Well, how do you know of him?"

"Do you remember that man that we caught a while back?" Morgana asked.
"The one who revealed the size of the army and its location?" Galbatorix asked.

"Yes, that one," Morgana replied.

"I thought he died after you made him swallow glass, and he cut his throat open," Galbatorix remarked.
"He did," Morgana said. "This one's his replacement. He worked in a bar that your soldiers like. One of your spies had been suspicious about him, so I went there last night and got this paper from him. It's a message from Orrin."

Galbatorix perused the piece of paper and said, "This is disconcerting. So, how does Orrin know all of this, since the spy clearly didn't know it?"

"I looked into his mind," Morgana replied. "He didn't know. I found something that wasn't on the paper though. There's another source within the palace. The spy doesn't know who it is, and I don't know how the source gets to Orrin."

"Does he know?" Galbatorix asked.

"He does not," Morgana replied.

"This is problematic. I want you to go through every single servant in the palace and find out who is betraying us," Galbatorix said.

"Do you really think it's a servant though?" Morgana asked. "How would a servant know this much? Wouldn't it be someone closer to you?" Her eyes flicked towards Murtagh before they came to rest on her father once again.

"Why would I do that?" Murtagh asked.

"Past friendship with the blue rider, lust for the elf, general hatred for everything that involves Galbatorix. Need I go on?" Morgana retorted.

"But how would I give the Varden that information?" Murtagh asked. "They don't trust me. They wouldn't take anything that I said."
"You could be sending a messenger to them," Morgana suggested.

"And that messenger would most definitely be a servant, so do as I say, and examine them," Galbatorix cut in.

"I will do so," Morgana replied, curtsying again.

"Keep your head down when you do that," Galbatorix snarled. "There's not need to do that for me."

"It's just a habit," Morgana protested.

"A bad one. Now go," Galbatorix ordered.

Morgana had just turned to leave when Galbatorix suddenly said, "Wait a minute. Fetch me the elf."

"Why do you want the elf?" Murtagh asked all too casually.

"You'll see," Galbatorix told Murtagh reminding the latter of a child with a new toy.

Murtagh, stop trying to play it cool, and stop asking questions. Questions get you in trouble, and trouble is bad. Therefore, questions are also bad, especially when you're asking them to him, Thorn chided condescendingly.

And talking to me in his presence is also bad because you never know when he might be dropping in on our conversation, Murtagh retorted.

He only enjoys doing that to Hathcyn and Eofor, Thorn said.

"Actually, I enjoy doing that to you two as well," Galbatorix cut in. He didn't seem angry though. In fact, he looked positively giddy.

For once, everyone on the training field was in agreement. They were all of the opinion that Arya was in for something, and that something was not going to be good.

Meanwhile, the elf in question was busy scrubbing Hathcyn's floor. He'd come back to his room last night, shaking from something. When she'd asked him what was wrong, he'd mumbled something about stupid spirits, lain down, and drunk a potion that knocked him out immediately.

Arya had frozen for just a moment when she'd heard the words about spirits. She'd of legends when she'd been among the dwarves about humans deriving power from the dead, but she'd never given them much credence. She'd grown up believing that the soul was attached to the body and died with it. Perhaps she'd misheard Hathcyn. But when did an elf ever mishear anything?

Her musings had then been rudely cut off by Hathcyn vomiting in his sleep over the side of the bed. He'd done that several times throughout the night and not woken at all. And so Arya was kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a mess made by her own morning sickness and Hathcyn's inability to get to the chamber pot to vomit in time. She groaned when she thought of that particular thing. The smell was foul, as one would expect it to be, and she nearly vomited when emptying into the waste pit, which was kept about a half a mile away from the palace. Not that she was ever allowed to go that far alone. A guard and a well-trained magician had had to accompany the last few mornings as she performed that particular task. Maybe she could have defeated the guard, but without her magic, she had no chance against the magician. The only two good things that could be said about the past few days were that she hadn't seen Murtagh or Morgana. She didn't need unwanted lust or insults.

Unfortunately, the latter of the two good things was about to change.

Arya's head shot up when she heard a key turn in the lock, and she was on her feet by the time Morgana had entered the room.

The younger woman glanced at the floor and then at Arya's impassive face.

"Oh my, what happened here?" she asked.

Arya didn't answer.

"Was that you or him?" Morgana pressed.

"Him," Arya replied.

"Hm," Morgana continued. "Lucky for you, I suppose. It would be so unfortunate if Murtagh left you with an unwanted burden, shall we say?"

Arya's expression didn't change, but her mind was reeling. Why had Morgana said that? Did Galbatorix already know her secret? Had Deandra betrayed her, or had he just found out on his own?

"Well, wouldn't it?" Morgana pressed.

"It would," Arya agreed. "I have been very fortunate."

Morgana suddenly started laughing.

"Fortunate?" she chortled. "I've known beggars more fortunate than you."

"You mean you've passed them by?" Arya shot back.

"Thrysta," Morgana whispered.

Arya gasped as an invisible force hit her in the chest. She stumbled backwards and had to grab hold of the bed to stop herself from falling over.

"You're defenseless, and I'm not," Morgana stated. "Do not test me. And if I passed them by, what of it? The king keeps me on a tight leash financially."

If she hadn't just had the wind knocked out of her, she would have laughed at that. Morgana's earrings alone could have likely paid the rent for an apartment for a month.

"Well, I have to look the part, don't I?" Morgana said. "But why am I bothering to justify myself to you? You're nothing." She said this last part breathlessly, her dark eyes widening. For what was neither the first nor the last time, Arya wondered exactly how sane Morgana was.

Then she did something that infuriated Morgana to no end. She simply smiled slowly at her, daring her to believe that she was the better of the two.

"You really think you're better than me, don't you?" Morgana asked.

Arya didn't answer.

"You're not," Morgana continued.

Arya raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, I'm rotten, and I know it," Morgana continued, "but at least I do."

"What have I done that can equal what you've done?" Arya asked coldly.

Morgana smiled suddenly.

"How have you killed?" the younger woman asked quietly.

Arya froze at the question. It was unexpected to say the least. How could this sadist be accusing her of violence.

"I asked you a question," Morgana said, slapping her across the face.

"I do not count," Arya replied. It was the truth. The number would be staggering, she knew. Each had been done because it had to be done, because they were enemies of the empire. It had never been personal, and she'd never enjoyed it.

"I've killed eighteen through torture, assassination, poison. All for the king," Morgana said. "I bet you've killed more than that."

"I didn't enjoy it like I know did," Arya retorted.

"You mean you get blood lust? You never feel a thrill at destroying your enemies? It never satisfies you?" Morgana asked.

"I do what I must," Arya replied.

"And Murtagh?" Morgana asked. "What I saw you do in your mind with him was something that I would do."

"Have you with him?" Arya asked before she could stop herself. She didn't even know why she'd asked the question. It shouldn't matter to her what did or had done.

Morgana laughed. "You actually care what he does. That's funny." She paused, considering Arya and then said, "Yes, but it was against the wall."

Arya only blinked, keeping her face void of expression. So that kind of thing happened with him all the time. It shouldn't surprise her. A handsome, young, rich dragon rider…but she cut her thoughts off there. Compared to the elfin men, Murtagh's looks were ordinary at best. But then they weren't.

Arya was disgusted with herself as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She swallowed them down and bit her lip. She would not cry over something that was so obviously not worth crying for her. She hadn't sunk that low.

Morgana's grin widened. "And then there was that time in the river and various other places, but I can't remember all of them. There were the stables of course, and then once in his bed, but that was only once. Never on a table though."

"Is he Lilith's father?" Arya asked quietly. She had already asked one question, and the damage was already done.

Morgana drew in her breath sharply. "No. It wasn't until after she was born that I gave into him. Poor boy thought he was in love with me. Damn near killed him when I chose somebody else. Then he grew up, so I had him."

"And why do you hate each other now?" Arya asked.

"Because there were others beside him. It made him hate me, and now I hate him for that," Morgana replied.

"And how can all that you've done be worse than what I've done?" Arya asked.

"I didn't say worse; I said as bad," Morgana retorted. "You did what you did simply because you wanted to, because you were lonely, because you were hungry. That's why I do what I do."

"One mistake does not damn me!" Arya hissed. She didn't know who she hated the most now: Morgana, Murtagh, or herself. Until about three months ago, only one man had ever been inside of her, and that man had been Fäolin, her mate and her love. Then she'd let Murtagh inside of her, and why? She knew the answer of course. Morgana had given it to her. The bitch had been right.

Stupid hormones, she thought, attributing the feelings to the only respectable result there was.

"It wasn't a mistake though. Mistakes are accidents. That wasn't an accident. You knew exactly what you wanted, and you took it," Morgana continued.

"But I regret it now more than I ever did," Arya said. "I doubt you've ever regretted a thing that you've done or ever will, and when you look back, I doubt you'll ever be truly proud of anything that you did."

"I'll be proud that I found your people," Morgana whispered.

Arya shook her head, her lips curling into a smile. Whatever Morgana had said to her, whatever she had just gained was about to be lost, and to Arya at that moment, that was winning, and it lifted her spirits higher than they'd been since before her capture. "But why? You don't care about the Empire or the Varden. It's neither here nor there to you. It's just whichever one can give you want you want. The Varden won't, and besides, you're as afraid of Galbatorix as the rest of us."

"Does it matter?" Morgana asked.

"If you believe in nothing and care for nothing, why live?" Arya asked.

"I believe in myself, and I care for myself, and that is more than enough reason to live!" Morgana shouted, her face now inches from Arya's. "My cause if my life. The Empire and the Varden can go to hell for all I care as long I don't go with them." She paused as she registered the look of pure disgust on Arya's face.

"That expression doesn't suit you," Morgana continued. "Do I disgust you? Do you think I'm selfish? Well, maybe I am, but that's how you live here. Maybe it's different with you. Maybe you have the time to be good, to be heroic, to avenge all the wrongs done to them by the king. But that doesn't change the fact that you've fucked with the king's right hand man for your own pleasure and that you're hear as a slave and that I am still free. As long as that's true, I still win."

Morgana backed away, and Arya just stared at her with new resolve. She wouldn't let this selfish whore shame her. She knew all that she needed to know about Murtagh, and she knew that she'd be able to resist him now.

Morgana smirked when she saw Arya's triumphant expression, and she simply said, "I came here to tell you that Galbatorix wishes to see you in the practice courts. Come with me. You can finish cleaning up your mess later."

She's definitely insane, Arya thought as she followed Morgana out the doorway. The thought comforted her as she walked towards what was likely going to be an excruciating experience. She could take it, she decided. She'd already taken so much else. What was a little more pain? Besides, she had the magic to protect her baby, and as soon as Hathcyn had gone, she'd cast an illusion spell that doubled as a shield charm. The baby would be safe, and that would be all that mattered.

"Why are you late?" Galbatorix demanded when Morgana and Arya finally entered the courtyard.

"She had some cleaning up to do. Apparently something's with the food because she and the green rider couldn't keep it down," Morgana replied without missing a beat.

"Really?" Galbatorix asked, not bothering to check the veracity of the comment. Instead, he stared ahead, black eyes strangely blank. His eyebrows nearly disappeared behind his hairline, and his lips moved in silent conversation. Finally, he spoke three words aloud. "That's very interesting."

Then his eyes cleared, and he snapped, "Elf! Stand here. Let me see how you look."

Arya stood directly in front of them, standing back just far enough so that she could still look into his eyes without having to tilt her chin to do so.

"Proud as ever, I see," Galbatorix whispered, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Then he closed the distance between them in one long stride, and Arya swallowed when she realized for the first time just how tall the king was. Even at her height, she still only came up to Galbatorix's shoulder.

His left hand gripped her by the chin, and his right was wrapped around her neck. She let out a rattling breath as a terrible thought occurred to her: He snap my neck right now if he wanted to.

"So you see you're trapped," Galbatorix said nonchalantly. It wasn't a question. "Now, should I see what's in your mind, or all your secrets forfeit? Is it worth breaking you right away when I can watch you suffer? Hm. What a question. I think the answer is no, but who can be sure with an elf? But what is there that I need to know right away, for what can you do? I hold you in the palm of my hand. I can use you however I like, and none can stop me. Do you have any idea how powerful that feels? Then again, I suppose not. Your race has always thought itself above using true names and what they call dark magic to control people. Not that they were, but they thought it. Oh yes, they thought it. I know more about your race than you do, you know because I lived during its golden age. I saw them before I brought them to nothing, and do you know what I think of that?"

"You think that they deserved it, and they didn't. Everything you have comes from them." Arya's voice was low and controlled, but it shook along with the rest of her body. Her pride wouldn't stand for such insults. He would not bring her low because she would not let him. His will might be great, but hers was too.

Galbatorix's eyes widened suddenly, and before she could blink, she was lying on the pavement, gasping from the shock. When she did so, a small white object dropped from her mouth. Arya gazed at it dispassionately as she absentmindedly felt the gap in her mouth.

He'd knocked out one of her teeth. Yet somehow it didn't matter. She'd made him mad, and the thought filled her with a sense of morbid satisfaction.

"Murtagh, don't look so disgusted. I've done far worse." Galbatorix's honey-smooth voice cut through the silence.

Arya's eyes slowly moved from the ground to Murtagh's face, but at this point he'd looked away.

"What of you, Hathcyn? Does it disgust you?" Galbatorix asked.

"You could've done worse," Hathcyn said with a shrug.

"Aye, I could have done worse," Galbatorix whispered, his eyes moving back to her. "And I will do much worse."

He paused. "First, let's try an experiment. Stand up."

Arya went to stand and then gasped as her head hit what felt like solid rock. She looked up and saw only air.

"See if you can keep her down, Hathcyn," Galbatorix said. "We keep doing this until she stands up or she gives up." The king then took a few steps back until he was leaning against the wall.

Arya took a deep breath and thought, This should be simple enough. He's not experienced. He won't know what he's doing. I can get through this. She positioned herself into a crouch, ready to spring up as soon as Galbatorix removed his barrier and before Hathcyn could apply his. Then he'd have to force her (if indeed he could), and how could that displease his royal highness? After all, he wanted to make the half-elf stronger. Arya almost smiled. Almost. Deep down inside she knew that there was worse to come.

Galbatorix, who had been staring at her the entire time, did something so strange that Arya's concentration on the task before her was jarred. He started laughing. It might have been because the usurper seemed the least likely person in the whole world to be amused enough by anything to laugh or because he sounded so horribly like Morgana when he laughed, but whatever the reason, Arya did not spring up in time, and Hathcyn's barrier actually knocked her out of her crouch and onto her stomach.

She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her by the blow. Her hands very nearly went to her stomach, but she stopped them just in time.

No hints, she told herself as she instead placed her hands on the ground beside her and attempted to push up. She did so gingerly, not wanting to slam her head, and found resistance perhaps a foot or so above her.

The barrier was neither as hard nor as sturdy as Galbatorix. This time, she allowed herself a small smile. Triumphs, however small and few, would be sweat. She lowered her body onto the ground, settled into a low crouch, and sprang up without warning. Hathcyn's barrier very nearly gave way before she heard a voice in her head shout, "No!"

She collapsed on the ground in confusion. That had not been Hathcyn's voice or any voice that she knew for that matter. Then she shook her head. It didn't matter now. She needed to break through this if only to get the whole experience over with.

She tried to break through the barrier again and again to no success. Every time she'd come close to bursting through, something would throw her back. Galbatorix seemed to grow weary of the whole thing as he had pulled out his dagger and begun to pick his fingernails with the thing. Her disgust with him at this point almost made her snarl, but she didn't have the strength for that. All she had the strength to do was lie on her stomach and pant from her exertions.

As she lay there, trying to recover some strength before she tried again, she felt energy creeping back into her veins, as if by magic. She turned her head to the side, brushed a lock of sweat-soaked hair from her eyes, and stared at Murtagh, who looked as disinterested by the whole thing as Galbatorix.

Try number forty five, she thought as she settled into a crouch and leapt yet again.

A cry broke from her throat as her head slammed against what felt like stone and then shattered it. She nearly fell to the ground again but managed to remain standing as she massaged her scalp.

"I thought you said she could take pain, Morgana," Galbatorix remarked.

"She used to be able to," Morgana said simply. "Now she can't even break through that herself. She needs his help." She jerked her head in Murtagh's direction.

"Don't you have somewhere to be or something to do? Or someone for that matter? You've been hanging around here for the past half-hour."

Morgana blinked and took a deep breath.

"Of course," she said. Then she left without saying another word.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix snapped. "Do you think I'm stupid? I can tell when you help her. Gods, between the three of you, what will I do? How can I win this war when all I have is some lust-filled, traitorous bastard; reckless, stupid cocksure half-breed; and some damn slut who breeds trouble?" He turned his gaze to Arya. "Come here, elf."

Well, this chapter ended up being far longer than I expected, and I only got about half of it done that I wanted to. I am so sorry about how long it took me to update. I've been busy and suffering from writer's block and everything else. So, I decided to leave it with this cliff-hanger. I promise to update this in two weeks and include a Murtagh/Arya scene. Also, what does everyone think should happen to Arya next chapter? I am getting back into this story now, so I will probably be updating more. Anyway here are the review responses.

EmyuuRR: Thanks so much, and I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time.

xLzM: Thank you. I'm glad that you think I've done so well with such a weird idea.

Cristina101: Sorry that it took me so long to get this out.

Shurty Arya: Thanks. I like writing them.

Blue-eyed Chica: Thanks.

Stripysockz: What you're saying makes sense. I'm still considering the deaths, but I think I have a good idea of who will die. And I'm glad you liked that scene. A little comic relief is good, right? Oh, and yes this is bookverse. Eofor could survive without Hathcyn.

Fredsonetrueluv: Yeah, it would. I'm considering killing of either her or Hathcyn.

CaramelBoost: Thanks. I'm glad everyone found it humorous.

Maze2010: Thanks for the suggestions. Those are the ones I'm considering.

Iama: Thanks. I'm glad you thought so.

Treeonfire12: There was in this chapter, and there will much more in the next.